4th of July - James Patterson [88]
I was making the same calculations.
“You’re making a huge mistake,” Carolee said with regret. “I’m the good guy, Lindsay. This thing you see here, this Melissa Farley, is complete trash.”
“Toss the knife over here very carefully,” I said, grasping my Glock so hard that my knuckles were white. Could I shoot Carolee if I had to? I really didn’t know.
“You aren’t going to shoot me,” she said then.
“I think you’ve forgotten who I am.”
Carolee started to speak again, but the resolve gripping my face stopped her. I would shoot her, and she was smart enough to get it. She smiled wanly. Then she tossed the knife underhand onto the carpet at our feet.
I kicked the knife under a bureau, then I ordered Carolee to the floor.
“On your knees!” I shouted. “Hands in front of you!”
I took her down to the ground, told her to lace her hands behind her neck and cross her ankles, frisked her, and found nothing but a thin leather belt around her waist.
Then I darted my eyes to the woman on the bed.
“Melissa? Are you okay? Call nine-one-one. Tell them that a violent crime is in progress and a cop needs assistance.”
The woman reached for the bedside phone even as she kept her eyes on me.
“He’s got my husband,” she said. “A man is in the bathroom with Ed.”
Chapter 140
I FOLLOWED MELISSA FARLEY’S gaze across the shadows to the door to the left of the bed.
The door opened slowly, and a male walked stiffly into the bedroom, his eyes wild behind blood-speckled glasses.
I noticed everything as the man came toward me: black T-shirt soaked with blood; belt, stripped from his pants, dangling by its silver buckle from his left hand; ugly hunting knife clutched in his right.
My mind raced ahead, thinking not where the knife was now, but where it would be next.
“Drop your weapon!” I screamed at him. “Do it now or I’ll shoot.”
The man’s mouth formed a grim smile, the chilling look of someone who is ready to die. He continued coming toward me, pointing the bloody knife.
My vision narrowed so that I could concentrate on what seemed necessary to my survival. There was too much to focus on, too much to control.
Carolee was behind me, unsecured.
The man with the knife knew it, too. His lip curled back.
He said, “G-g-get up! We can take her.”
I calculated what would happen if I shot him. He was less than ten feet away.
Even if I got him square in the chest, even if I stopped his heart, the closing range was short.
He was still coming.
I leveled my gun, fingered the trigger, and then Melissa Farley scrambled across the bed, launching herself toward the bathroom.
“No,” I yelled out. “Stay where you are.”
“I have to go to my husband!”
I never heard the door open behind me.
I never heard someone else enter the room.
But suddenly she was there.
“Bobby, don’t!” Allison screamed.
And for one long second, everything stood still.
Chapter 141
THE MAN ALLISON CALLED Bobby froze. He steadied himself, and I watched his face seize with confusion.
“Allison,” he said, “you’re supposed to be home.”
Bobby! The stutter hadn’t cued me, but now I recognized his face. It was Bob Hinton, the lawyer from town who’d run into me with his bike. I didn’t have time to figure out exactly how he fit into this picture.
Allison drifted from behind me as if she were in a dream. She walked over to Bob Hinton and put her arms around his waist. I wanted to stop her, but before I could, Hinton reached his arms around her and held Allison tightly.
“Little sister,” he whispered, “you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t see this.”
My blood pressure dropped, and the sweat on my hands made the gun’s trigger slippery. I continued to gauge my shot at Hinton.
I jockeyed for a better angle, and Hinton turned the dazed little girl toward me. I could see that he was dazed himself.
“Bob,” I said, putting my heart into it. I wanted him to believe me. “It’s your choice. But I’ll blow your head off if you don’t drop that knife and get right down on your knees.”
Bob stooped,